Image credit: https://www.amazon.com/OLIVER-Mortar-Pestle-Unpolished-Granite
Luke 23:50-24:5
Now there was a good and righteous man named Joseph, who, though a member of the council, 51had not agreed to their plan and action. He came from the Jewish town of Arimathea, and he was waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God. 52This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. 53Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid. 54It was the day of Preparation, and the sabbath was beginning. 55The women who had come with him from Galilee followed, and they saw the tomb and how his body was laid. 56Then they returned, and prepared spices and ointments.
On the sabbath they rested according to the commandment.
But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 2They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3but when they went in, they did not find the body. 4While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 5The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.
I expected I’d be writing tonight about John the Baptist preparing the way of the Lord, but when I finally sat down to write, it was this Easter text that came to mind.
Actually, I take that back.
What came to mind was not the surprising revelation of Sunday morning (He is not here, but has risen!), but instead the ritual of the grieving ones on Friday (the women prepared spices and ointments).
There is so much grief in this season, isn’t there? Or maybe it’s just that the grief that’s always present is magnified somehow. What do we do in the face of sorrow that punches us in the gut, suffering that takes our breath away? What do we do when the empty chair at the table is more than we can bear? What do we do when the memories come unbidden, bringing with them uninvited tears?
In the wake of their grief, the women who watched Jesus breathe his last prepared spices and ointments. They continued to love this beloved one who had died. They prepared to honor him.
And while I don’t know anything about what this preparation of spices and ointments entailed, I’m imagining a mortar and pestle. I’m imagining tears falling while strong arms ground spices–the women using their anger and grief to power that pestle. Maybe talking with one another while they labored together. Maybe keeping sacred silence, holding one another’s pain in that space where words aren’t needed.
Remembering. Together.
And when they were done, they rested.
So what do we do in these Advent days when grief threatens to overwhelm us?
Continue to love. Work together. Rest.
Witness the rising when it comes. (It will come.)
Babe born in Bethlehem, you are our risen Lord. In moments of grief, prepare us for the surprising joy of resurrection. Come, Lord Jesus, come. Amen.